I'm Really Misunderstood
by The Delegation Of The R's
Summary: Only a few years from the end of the anime, the happy-ish lives of the Jyuunishi have disintegrated, leaving them out of touch with each other and reality. Tohru works at McDonald's in later chapters.
1. Haru Afor nowA

D: Furuba is NOT ours. Oh my god, so very not ours. If it belonged to us... umm... we'd have it. Lots of leprachauns. Oh, and it's be rated XXX for much homosexual bedroom activity ^^; yep. We'sa pervs to the core. 

Rura: Shut up, Mari! X_@ Noooo! My brain! Stop cursing my brain with IMAGES! *dies* 

Rei: *pokes Rura* Nee-chan? *blinku* 

Rura: *dead* 

Rei: Oh well. ^^ I get to write the whole ficcy... yay... um... 

Rura: *fine. not dead* 

A/N   
Rei: Anyhoo, so we're going to present to you...angst...thats what it is. Angst...and...angst. And more angst. Dont you just luuuuuuv the angst? Angst is good for the soul...or is it bad? I dont know. Anyway, here is joyful misery for you to feast on! YAY! Come see the glory! Bathe in it goddamn it!   
This is going to have...multiple chapters. All with ever-increasing sadness, death, sexual frustration, and a serious lack of pineapples. WHEEE!!! 

Okay, well might as well just get on with it. We've got to get something done, or we'll probably never start. 

Rura: Don't listen to her. Listen to me. See? She does ANs wierd. Here's the PROPER way to do 'em X_@ the patented Rura way! 

AN: Rei's yelling at me about how I shouldn't be writing this right now when this is the only thing that gets me into ficci mood... yep. *shh* Procrastination is the ultimate method. Use this knowledge well, young Padawan. 

What? You wanna know how this fic got started? No you don't. Stop asking. If you must know a SMIDGEN (Dammit, Rei, why must you shut me up? Stop shaking that whip), it was our...idea-baby... after watching the end of Furuba. You know what? Rei's clicking lotion at me so I'm going to get going. Perhaps when I'm alone (what a surprise) I'll actually get some real yak in here. Don't worry, my inserted, cheap blog will come. *rolls eyes and wonders who actually reads them* Apparently Royce. 

A Little Bitty Side Note: This story is only going to include characters from the anime! Which means no Rin or Surenu(o. not sure which it is.) Ryoei and Ikkoru will take their place as the horse and rooster Juunishi. So this is AU-ish. O.o; Live with it. 

I'm Really Misunderstood   
by Rei and Rura! We alternate. We swear you won't notice.   


Chapter 1~ Haru 

"Haru."   
I thought I heard someone calling my name, but it could just be another old pervert trying to run his hands down my thighs again, one of the regulars. If bars are usually reserved for the young and the virtuous, then where are the young and the virtuous? Just once, I'd like to see some fifteen-year-old, experimental virgin sneak in here and order a Sex on the Beach.   
"Haru!" the voice said again, more insistently, breaking me out of my off-topic reverie. I turned abruptly, ready to swat away callused and liver-spotted hands, but instead was met with something much, much more pleasant: Momiji.   
"Momiji-kun!" I chirrupped happily. I was always glad when my blond friend visited me; somehow he acted as a barrier between me and the old perverted farts in the corner, as if signifying that I was in some sort of relationship, and somehow that meant I was off-limits. Why doesn't this apply to females of the same job? I mean--   
I'm rambling again. Do I do this often?   
I put down my tray carrying several Cruisers and a martini, and wrapped my arms around Momiji's narrow shoulders. He'd grown in the past years since we'd met Tohru, into something like the gorgeous schoolboy I'd conjured up for those schoolboard girls that long while ago -- it seemed like eons. He'd shot up several inches, though he was still shorter than I, and his curly golden locks had lengthened some. Puberty had finally found him, I guess, after a long (and I suppose tiring) quest.   
He hugged back, tightly, and began jumping around excitedly. Still the same Momiji, growth spurt or not. "Hi Haru-Haru! How goes it?"   
"It goes alright. Not exactly having the best time at work...many freakish people lurk here...but, otherwise, good."   
"You look really nice in that uniform, Haru!" he sqeauled. Ah yes. The bloody uniform. It basically consisted of a black silk thong, and a ripped, black tank top with the bar logo on it. Fake blood could be added if one were so inclined. If I were not currently waiting tables, I would probably be wearing handcuffs or something.   
"Um, thanks. Personally I hate it, but...well whatever. So school's going okay or what? You've got finals now, right?"   
"Yeah!" Momiji said, still somehow excited. "I failed my social studies final for sure, but that's okay! Do you know anything about social studies? Maybe you can help me when I retake the course."   
"Well, Momiji, you know I never really paid any attention when I was in school, and now that I'm out, even if I had learned, I don't particurally care which American president was stupid when."   
"But we're not _doing_ American history! That's stupid! We're studying World War II. Do you know that the Americans _blew up_ Hiroshima?" It seemed he really hadn't known this. Considering we have a mutual grandparent who survived the bombings, and was constantly rambling on about it, he should know. Then, it's not like anyone paid attention to Grandpa Joji anyway.   
"Yeah, I knew that. Anyway, good luck with the class. Try not to fail again, okay?"   
"Okeedokee, Haru-chaaaan!" he giggled. You know what I think? Puberty does nothing to hyperactive little kids except combine hyperacticity with a hormone overload, producing severe perversion. Ohhh, geez. Mental picture of Momiji...umm... dear... You know what, I'm tired of rambling. But... mental picture! It's that pretty. It's sick (I shouldn't be picturing other boys, especially my BEST FRIEND, whacking off no matter where I work!) but...okay, back to *twitch* Momiji.   
Momiji spun his bartstool around, closing his eyes against the nausea. "You know, Haru-chan, we really oughta visit Tohru... you know, considering where she works and all."   
Ah yes. The martyr, Honda Tohru. My eyes darkened seriously. "Yes. It's so terrible what she's been reduced to..."   
We chorused, "Working at McDonald's."   
It was no laughing matter. Tohru would get grease into her pores, which would result in horrible, acidic, bubbling acne, which would result in a significant drop in her ego, which would result in her marrying some jerk with an earring who would turn out to be a drug dealer living in a trailer, which would result in Tohru becoming a fat American hillbilly with 50 children...   
It's not funny.   
Really.   
It's not.   
Stop laughing!   
"She's thinking of quitting," Momiji said. "But I don't think she will. You know Tohru-kun would never desert her co-workers, as much as they deserve to burn in hell." Strong words from Momiji.   
"What?" I asked, raising my eyebrow. "They're _that_ bad? I mean I know the _establishment_ is horrible, but surely the people can't be..."   
"The last time I visited one one of them almost shoved Tohru into a boiling vat of grease. If Uo hadn't rescued her Tohru'd be dead by now."   
"Oh dear God. Really? That is bad."   
"And they're always talking about her behind her back. They call her rat-woman, and they're always fawning over Yuki when he comes to visit. One of them is a member of his old fan-club, see. Motoko something or another."   
"Ah yes...that bitch. I remember her. I beat the living shit out of her a while back. Not entirely sure why now."   
"She was bothering Yuki...remember?"   
"Yes....yes. That was the reason. Right." And I was sure it had been. After all, when word got around to me that Yuki was being harrassed, I was usually right on it. But I have to say, it did give me a certain amount of pleasure to hear her scream. Whether it was sadistic or sexual I'm not sure. All I know is that I have some very competing images in my brain, the latest of which is Yuki without a speck of clothing on. Very pretty...but wrong. He's my cousin, and male. But the Motoko thing was wrong too...   
I am one very confused moo-cow.   
"Anyways, so right, we _should_ visit Tohru," I agreed. "It'll cheer her up to see you."   
"And you too Haru-chan! She likes you too, remember!"   
"Yeah. But I'd just depress her more. Even _my_ job is better then hers."   
"She doesn't know about your job though. I didn't tell anyone, just like you asked."   
"Thanks. Eh, Momiji, could you hang on a sec? I really have to give these martinis to their rightful owners, or I'll get fired. Be right back."   
Very true; the party of middle-aged businessmen were shouting indignantly about lack of service. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and picked the tray up again. "Coming!" I called brightly, and sidled my best sidle up to their table, where I was this close to sitting in what seemed to be the leader of the group's lap. After all, I wanted business to come back just as much as the owner; it was my job on the line.   
I glanced at Momiji momentarily as I passed out the drinks, rubbing my crotch subtlely against the main guy's shoulder, and the little rabbit boy didn't look so very pleased. If anything, he looked jealous! I didn't quite understand; did he want to be me, standing in a black satin G-string and demoralizing himself? I felt ashamed enough as it was.   
After escaping groping hairy hands with the promise that I'd come back and perform a special show for them in the back room if they tipped extra well, I returned to the sulky-looking Momiji.   
"Momiji-kun, what's wrong?" I asked, tipping his chin up delicately.   
He frowned at me for a second, then shook it off his features and grinned from ear to ear as usual. "Nothing, Haru. I was just thinking about stuff."   
"What stuff?" I asked, sitting opposite him on a barstool with a cracked purple vinyl covering and leaning in close. Some of the younger men hooted, though I wasn't sure at what. Perhaps Kenjirou had finally returned from the bathroom, where he'd been most likely applying mascara, the vain thing?   
Momiji blushed. "Umm.. well..." His eyes searched the air around my face. "Kagura. It's Kagura."   
I sat back, blinking in surprise. I hadn't heard from Kagura in a long time. "Oh. Is she alright?"   
"Yeah, she's okay," Momiji sighed. "But she's...well she's pregnant." He sighed. This was big news, but for Momiji to worry so...was he the father or something?   
"Well...wow. Kagura? Are you _sure?_ Is Kyou...?"   
"No, Kyou's not the father, or I think Kagura'd be a bit happier. I don't know who it is, but she said it's someone in the family."   
"Why wouldn't she tell you?"   
"It's not really any of my buisness, is it? I saw her walking around outside the Main House in tears, so I asked her what was wrong. She said she's pregnant, and she's going to go talk to the father. Of course I _asked_ who it was, but all she said was Souma, and then she went off somewhere,"   
"Is she going to get an abortion or something? Because I dont think Hatori knows how to do those. She'd have to go to some other doctor."   
"I don't know."   
"Momiji...you're not the father, are you? You can tell me."   
Momiji's eyes widened, and then he burst out laughing. "_Me?_ You think _I'm_ the father? Haru-_chaaaaan_, you're so silly! Kagura's like my big sister, there's _nothing_ between us at all! Besides..."   
"What?" He looked so nervous, behind the laugh. I wanted to ask if he was okay, but I couldn't. He was trying too hard to pretend he was.   
"Nothing," Momiji said, starting to yawn. He looked tired, he had bags under his eyes and things.   
"Momiji...have you been sleeping much lately? You look exhausted." This much, at least, I could ask.   
"Oh...not much lately. It's been pretty loud at night lately. Akito's up screaming all night, so it's hard to fall asleep."   
"Is he...disciplining anyone?"   
"No...he just...screams a lot...and cries. He's in a lot of pain."   
"Oh...what's wrong with him?"   
"Who knows? But Hatori keeps going in with medicine, and Akito's just screaming and screaming."   
"Maybe you ought to move to another room. One farther away from Akito."   
"Probably."   
For a minute or so, there was uncomfortable silence.   
"Um... so, Momiji," I tried, "have you got a girlfriend or anything? Tell me about you."   
Momiji flushed bright red, mumbled a quick, "No," and ran to the bathroom.   
I sat alone and confused for a moment, blinking cowishly as usual, until someone yelled, "'Ey! Thong-boy! Over here, three Bloody Marys and a Virgin!" 

Rei: Okay, so that was our introduction thingy. Not so much angst it that one, but a bit. ^^ Be prepared to DROWN in sorrow and misery! MWA HA HA!!! Anyway, please review, and we hope you'll be back for the next chapter! Byeee! ^_^ 


	2. Bleh Auntitled so farA

AN: Rei ish writing Hiro, Rura writing Ayame. =3 No suey, we no eat Chinese food much -- we mean, we have only author-currency (pocket lint) and we do not own Furuba charas (unfortunately X_x). Flamers will be viciously slaughtered, and we will pee on their smoldering corpses while laughing maniacally. Or we could just spray them with that Slugs B-Gone stuff, should work the same way. ^^;   
  
  
  
  
I'm Really Misunderstood  
by Rei and Rura! We alternate. We swear you won't notice.   
  
  
Chapter 2~ Bleh  
  
~Hiro~  
  
School was off, after what seemed like years of nonstop slaving. Well, it was that way for Kisa, anyway, I barely cracked open a book. After all, what was the point? I knew I'd scrape by with a pass anyway. But Kisa's started high school, wants to make a good impression.   
But she's taken a day off, though it was nearly impossible to convince her that she really didn't need to look at her Bio notes for the fiftieth time that morning. She hasn't even got an exam coming up, she's obsessing. I'd be worried, but we've got bigger problems.   
Bigger problems, like how we're gonna tell the family we hooked up and not get slaughtered. Any sane person would've just given it up by now, given the kind of crazy unstable people we're related to. Namely Akito, our family head. God only knows how he got picked to be in charge, which means he knows cause he's God, but no ones about to ask him. Any Souma who values their life and sanity, would do best to avoid him.   
We're trying to hide it from him until he dies, which will hopefully be before we grow up, because I have every intention to marry Kisa. It will be, he's too sick to survive much longer, or so says Dr. Hatori. Never had a reason to doubt the man, so as I see it, Akito's a goner. We'll probably be able to hide it. We should be able to pretend. If we avoid Akito as usual, if we only show our love in front of people we trust, we'll be okay.  
But if Akito finds out...that's when we're dead. That's when he goes crazy.  
Kisa said quietly, pulling on her shoes. Where are we going?  
I don't know. Any ideas? You're the genius, you figure something out, I said, a little cruelly. So it's not her fault she's so nuts about school, but I do what I can to tone it down.  
I'm not, she said, a hint of a glare on her face. But Kisa didn't get angry, didn't smile either. Just because I work...where are we going? Back to neutral, okay. We weren't going to fight. I could never fight with her.  
We could go to a movie, I guess. Anything good playing?  
Can't, I'm broke.  
I'll pay for you.  
There's nothing I want to see.  
Okay, so it's a bad idea. The park?  
It might rain. Hiro, I don't want to go out...I've got to study, and besides...we can't really, what if...  
If someone sees us? Kisa, we're not hiding from the whole world. Just Akito. And there's no way Akito will be outside, Hatori's not even letting him out of bed. We're safer outside then we are here in the house.  
I know, but what if he sees us leaving together? Or someone who might tell him does...  
Who would tell him? Our family...no one here is that bad.  
We don't know that, she said, pulling her shoes off. We can't trust them...except Tohru-oneesan, and she's not even a Souma.  
You know she's not your sister...and you haven't got three grandpa's either.  
I know, but I like to think...listen, Hiro, I just don't want to risk it. You understand that, right? I know most of them wouldn't say anything...but Hatori might, and he's always wandering around the Main House...he might see us, he might give Akito some clue by mistake...you know he's the only one who talks to him.  
That's not going to happen, I groaned, tired of reassuring her. We've been over this a million times. No ones going to tell on us.' Yeah, okay, there's a possibility of Akito finding out, but it's very small. Even if he _does_, right now he's too sick to do anything, so he might not bother to punish us. _Stop worrying_.  
Well what am I supposed to do? she yelled, then blinked, shocked at the strength of her feelings. But she kept going, now that she knew she could be angry. Are you telling me we can just waltz right up to Akito, holding hands and talking sweetheart talk, and he won't do a thing? He'd _kill_ us, Hiro. You know that. He's _always_ sick, do you really think that will stop him? And he will find out...it's only a matter of time, and then it's all over.  
Let's go out. I think you need to get away from the Main House for a bit. I know I do...come on Kisa. I didn't want her to be afraid, if she was, I was. I'd learned to match my feelings to hers, which meant controlling her sometimes. I knew I shouldn't, but her emotions seemed so much safer then my own. She was always so calm.  
she yelled, kicking off the shoes she'd just put on. You go out, fine, but I'm not coming with you...maybe we could meet someplace later, but we can't leave together.  
We need to...  
_You _need to! It's like you want to be caught...do you want everything to be ruined, Hiro? Do I matter that little to you?  
Please Kisa, don't think that, I said softly, wrapping my arms around her, knowing at any moment we could be caught, everything that mattered could be gone, if Akito decided to visit Kisa's room...but no, that won't happen. Akito was in another section all together, lying alone in bed.   
Don't Hiro! Kisa cried, throwing me away. We can't... she said, choking on unshed tears. I love you...so we can't...just go. If we're found...just go.   
I wasn't going to do anything...it was just a hug, Kisa..._friends _do that.  
But we would have kissed...we always do...I want you to leave.  
  
Go away or I'll..._I'll _break up with you! It's better that way. You'll be safe.  
I don't want to be safe! Kisa...  
She pushed me out the door, locked it behind her, fell on the floor and cried. I went home to do the same.   
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
  
~Ayame~  
  
Ah, Hanatsuki-san! I see you've returned... again... I said, hiding my distaste for him well. Hanatsuki was one of the brothel's regulars, a high-class businessman well into his sixties, sporting the typical leathery, oily skin, wide, sweaty nose, and large horn-rimmed glasses. He chuckled nervously, adjusting his Superman tie.   
Of course, he squeaked out. I wondered briefly if this man, at any point in his life, had ever been attractive and/or young. I doubted the former very much. Where's my Yoriko?   
I sighed. Poor Yoriko; this filthy man with a ring on his finger had taken a distinct liking for her young-looking body, and always wanted her awaiting in a Japanese schoolgirl's outfit, with the shortest skirt, lowest neckline and loosest socks. She's just getting her clothes on, sir, she'll be out for you in a minute.   
Hanatsuki snorted. She won't be needing clothes once she gets into a room with _me_... His eyes took on a faraway look, and I suspected the old man of seeing himself as an absolute stud.   
Take a beer until she comes out, Hanatsuki-san? I offered, biting my lip in disgust.   
he affirmed, sweat pouring into his collar. God, that's nasty.   
I pulled out a glass mug, filled it to the brim with ice, and put it with a can of Sapporo (Hanatsuki's favorite) on the counter. Two hundred yen, sir.   
Hai, hai, the old fart replied, dropping the money on top of the bar.   
Yoriko suddenly appeared, dark brown hair brushed back into a high ponytail with an obscenely big red bow. She sucked noisily on a lollipop, eyeing Hanatsuki with what anyone else could see was reluctance veiled thinly with false lust. Hanatsuki downed the last of his beer, face crimson, and gulped as Yoriko led him to the back of the brothel.   
How could I end up in a filthy place like this?   
It started when my precious shop went out of business, and Mine moved to Okinawa. She, apparently, had not been splurging her money as I had always done, but had saved up quite a tidy sum. With said tidy sum she was now living the good life on the southern beaches, but I needed to keep working.   
So... here I am... *sigh*   
a high-pitched trill suddenly sounded.   
Eh -- oh! Madam Seiko! What is it? I responded as a middle-aged woman wearing a hairnet and apron trundled out of the back rooms and into the bar. She puffed angrily on a cigarette that was a good percentage ash.   
Nikka's got a cold! she squawked over the hubbub. None o' the punters wanna catch it, but Nikka's got an appointment to keep! So, you keep it for her! Let's move it, mister! With that she stomped back out, smoke trailing in her wake.   
was all I could muster at that point. But I had no choice, so I took off the bartender's apron and minced off after Madam Seiko.   
In Nikka's room, where buxom Nikka was consecutively sneezing, I took off both shirt and pants, knowing Nikka wouldn't care. She'd seen much worse than my pasty body. Replacing my normal clothes was... well... a choirboy's robes. Only they were open in the back, and had a huge collar. The hem did actually reach the floor, but that seemed to be the only redeeming point as far as I was concerned.   
Danks, Ayame-kun, Nikka said blearily. Sorry you godda taeg by shift, id really blows... Guy loogs alrighd bud he's really violed, I'be heard.   
No sooner had sniffling Nikka scurried out, but what I assumed was Nikka's customer also entered. He was tall, of bleached hair and tanned skin, and looked to be nearing his forties. He watched Nikka go by with a bit of surprise, and looked at me momentarily.   
Didn't I make an appointment with...her? he asked slowly.   
She got sick, no one wants to catch it, I'm filling in, I informed him dully.   
When I looked up, he was standing in front of me, crotch in front of my face. Well, you could at least seem a little more enthused, he growled, the words followed by an unexpected backhand to my pale cheek.   
A choirboy, eh? he sniggered. Then am I the big, bad priest? Fine. I wanted to molest a fine girl on the subway, but a choirboy's just as good, I guess.   
Oh god, what have I gotten myself into...? 


End file.
